


Coming to Terms - A Day in his Memories Remix

by Elfflame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: hd_remix, M/M, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-23
Updated: 2007-09-23
Packaged: 2017-10-19 04:14:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfflame/pseuds/Elfflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco doesn’t get it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming to Terms - A Day in his Memories Remix

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Day in His Memories](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/3251) by Sesheta_66. 



> I really liked the idea of this fic, and wanted to go into detail on the memories. Warning for spoilers for DH here. And liberal quoting and paraphrasing from all the books.

Draco had come to Harry to try to find a way to get along, even despite the fact that the two of them never had. And Harry was frustrated with him already. It hadn’t been even a day.

For one, Draco had refused to believe that anyone in the Muggle world hadn’t bowed down and worshipped at his feet while he’d been growing up. Or that Harry had ever had a bad day in his life—at least, not until Umbridge—even Draco couldn’t deny what a loathsome person she’d been.

So Harry had decided to show him. The Pensieve had been difficult to get his hands on, but he’d found one. And then, into it, he’d placed all those moments he’d been at his lowest point, and felt he could go no lower.

Then he had brought it to Draco. “So find out, then.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Draco had nodded and slid a hand into the silvery liquid, disappearing within a second.

While he had waited, Harry thought about what Draco would see in the memories he’d provided.

~~*~~ 

_The cupboard is small and cramped, and Harry—a very small six-year-old—has his arms around his knees. He isn’t crying. He stopped crying a long time ago. But he is cold, and he’s shivering, even wrapped in his best blanket, which is the thinnest one the Dursleys could find to give him. There’s a draft that always sweeps through the hall, and it seems to gather in this small space, even enclosed as it is._

_It’s dark. There is a light he can use, but Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia get very upset when he asks for a replacement bulb, so he uses it sparingly. The last time, they gave him the old one from Dudley’s room, and it burned out the next time he turned it on. They refused to give him a new one for a month for that, and he went without supper for a week._

_He’s waiting for them to go to bed, and his stomach growls, having been empty all day. He wonders if there will ever be a time when he’s not hungry again._

~~*~~ 

_The next is a playfield at the school he attended with Dudley. He sits alone on a log, watching the rest of the children playing together._

_There’s a new girl at school today. She looks a bit lost, and hasn’t made any friends yet, so Harry lets himself hope. He glances toward his cousin and his gang, but they’ve found a beetle on its back, and are watching with fascination as it dies, and not paying attention to Harry. He gets up and approaches her. “Hi. I’m Harry.”_

_She blinks at him and smiles for a moment. “Sally.”_

_Harry smiles back, making her smile wider. “Wanna go swing?” he asks._

_But before she can respond, one of the other girls sees what’s going on, and is soon at her side, whispering something to her, and Sally looks up at Harry, alarmed, glances at his cousin, still distracted by the beetle, then backs away. The other girl leads her to her little group of friends, who all pat Sally’s back and whisper urgently to her, each of them shooting scared or nasty looks at Harry as though he were the bug._

_Harry goes back to his log and sits down once more._

~~*~~ 

_The playground again. Harry’s legs are pumping as fast as he can get them to move. Behind him, there are shouts from Dudley’s gang to “Get Potter!” and Piers is far too close as far as Harry is concerned._

_He rounds the corner of the building, horrified when he realizes he’s reached a dead end where the building curves back on itself. He’s trapped, and they’re only coming closer. He closes his eyes, hears something pop, and opens them again to see what it was, then realizes he’s no longer on the ground, and that Dudley and his gang are looking up at him wide-eyed._

_His moment of victory lasts for only as long as it takes Mister Winchester to get him off the roof, and then he’s dragged off to the Headmaster’s office while the other kids laugh and point at creepy Potter._

~~*~~ 

_There’s a banging on his cupboard door. “Get up, you lazy brat, and cook Vernon’s bacon for him. If he’s late to work because of you, you’ll go to bed without supper for a week._

_"And don’t let it burn!”_

_Apparently, Aunt Petunia has forgotten he’s already suffering through one such sentence, but Harry doesn’t say a word, just pulls on a jumper, opens the door to his cupboard and goes into the kitchen where the pan is already on the stove, bacon sizzling inside._

_Dudley isn’t there. After all, it’s the summer. Harry knows he probably won’t be up before noon. Instead, he sighs and picks up the spatula to prepare to flip the strips in the pan._

_Shortly before he finishes, Uncle Vernon shuffles in, still tying his tie, and glowers in Harry’s direction. “Hurry up, boy!” Harry moves with the pan—still too heavy for an eight-year-old to hold easily—to the table, and slides the strips onto his uncle’s plate._

_Uncle Vernon settles into his chair, then stares disbelieving at his plate. “Only three strips?” he snarls, grabbing Harry’s wrist, and the pan drops to the floor, spattering bacon grease everywhere. Uncle Vernon jumps away fast enough to avoid the splatter himself, but Harry’s face and hand are burning so bad it’s all he can do not to scream. But he manages._

_“You idiot boy! Clean that up or you’ll be spending the rest of your day in the cupboard with no meals!” his uncle shouts, then proceeds to work on his bacon and toast as though nothing happened at all._

_Aunt Petunia doesn’t take him to the emergency room until the blister on his cheek pops and starts oozing blood and puss. When the doctors ask how it happened, she blames him for scratching at it._

~~*~~ 

_That blasted shack in the middle of the storm, cold and aching from laying on a splintery wooden floor. Counting down the moments to his birthday._

_“Happy birthday, Harry,” he whispers to himself._

_And then that knock that sounds as though the entire shack will collapse._

_Hagrid. Wizard. Parents he never really knew. And Dudley’s tail._

_Hope._

~~*~~ 

_The summer between first and second years. Dobby._

_That fucking pudding._

_A letter from the Ministry._

_Uncle Vernon cackling as he nails Harry’s door shut._

_An end to hope._

_Would he ever be free of them?_

~~*~~ 

_A dank, cramped passageway, walking side by side with Sirius, and hearing those words for the first time. Another home. Someone who truly wants him. Someone who loves him._

_“Of course I want to come live with you!”_

_But the words echo hollowly in his head as he watches Sirius fly away on Buckbeak, taunting him with their false promise._

_That moment, he was sure he would never be free of the Dursleys._

~~*~~ 

_Fourth year. The Graveyard. Watching Voldemort emerge from the cauldron, knowing he is about to die (like Cedric!)._

_Pain as Voldemort presses his finger to Wormtail’s Mark._

_Death Eaters. Macnair, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott…Malfoy._

_Pain again, as Voldemort touches his scar._

_Laughter. Taunting. Jeers._

_The duel. “Crucio!” Never in his life has Harry wished to die before, but this pain…would it ever end?_

_And then it is over, and Harry takes his chance, first running away, then facing Him as even His supporters never dared._ Priori Incantatem _. Cedric. The Muggle. Bertha. His parents. Escape._

_That was when he began to know his fate. Even before he admitted it to himself._

~~*~~ 

_The Ministry in fifth year, Voldemort’s words coming from his own mouth, his whole body on fire as he screams and begs Dumbledore to kill him, that anything has to be better than this. Than the pain of life, of loss. Of a world in which Voldemort lives and those Harry loves do not._

~~*~~ 

_The echo of his own tired pain across a pale, pointed face as a shaky wand is pointed at Dumbledore. Hope as Draco begins to lower his wand, and then it is dashed._

_More Death Eaters. Feeling his heart pounding in his chest as they argue over who would kill Dumbledore._

_And then, worst of all, Snape. The flash of hope again, so quickly dashed as Dumbledore begs for his life. But Dumbledore never begged prior to this that Harry knows. It shatters Harry almost as much as Snape’s reply. “Avada Kedavra.”_

~~*~~ 

_Last year, walking into the woods, knowing that this time, not only is it likely he will die, but that he_ has _to die for the others to live. And wanting nothing more than to see_ them _again._

_The Snitch opening. Turning the stone._

_And they’re there._

_“You’ve been so brave.” She is so beautiful, smiling like that. And he is about to join her._

_“You’re nearly there. We’re so proud of you.” The things all sons want to hear from their fathers. It makes him courageous enough to speak._

_“Does it hurt?”_

_Sirius looks so young. So happy. “Dying? Not at all. Quicker and easier than falling asleep.”_

_And there is Remus, looking younger than Harry could ever imagine it possible for him to look. “And he will want it to be quick. He wants it over.”_

_Harry could remember the tug on his heart. They died for_ him _. So that he could survive long enough to do this. He has to be brave._

_“You’ll stay with me?” he asks, feeling younger himself than he ever remembered feeling._

_“Until the end,” his father assures him._

_And they did. And he died._

_And then he lived again to see Him fall._

_Then it was really over._

~~*~~ 

It had been a revelation for Draco. He had emerged from the Pensieve, his head spinning, and had barely managed more than a few words for Harry before making a barely-veiled excuse so that he could leave.

He’d spent the next weeks soul-searching. About what he’d always assumed when it came to Harry. About his own memories involving him. About what he’d always meant to Draco.

It was only a matter of time before he had decided what he really needed to do was show him.

A week later, he had returned to Harry’s place, carrying a bottle filled with his own silvery memories.

Harry had blinked at him. “Draco…you don’t have to…”

“I know. I want to. Please?”

Harry had nodded, and Draco had taken the Pensieve from where it sat, filled it with the contents of the bottle, then had turned to Harry. “Go on.”

For a moment, it seemed like Harry would refuse, but then, with another nod, as though bracing himself, he had reached out to touch the shining liquid, and disappeared into it. Draco sat down to wait, the memories he’d placed in the Pensive playing out in his mind’s eye as he did.

~~*~~ 

_Bedtime when he is about six. “Father, tell me about Harry Potter?”_

_Lucius raises an eyebrow at him. “You aren’t bored with that yet?”_

_“No, father. Tell me?”_

_“Very well, Draco, but you will go to sleep immediately after. Is that understood?”_

_Draco nods. “Of course, father.”_

_“All right, then. Once there was a very powerful wizard. A man who wanted nothing more than to restore our world to its glory. But there were those who opposed him.”_

_“Mudbloods and blood-traitors, father?”_

_“Exactly. There was another powerful wizard who gathered a group of followers to try to stop him. Our Lord did what he could to persuade them that they were mistaken, but they seemed vehement in their opposition of him. And there were two who were especially opposed to him. When he went to talk to them, they attacked him, and when the dust settled, Our Lord was dead, and the only survivor of the attack was a one-year-old boy.”_

_“Harry Potter?”_

_“Yes.”_

_”And how did he survive, father?”_

_“Well, no one knows for certain, Draco. Dumbledore’s people took him and hid him away before anyone could find out what had happened to him.”_

_Draco sticks out his chin. “Well, if I ever meet him, I’ll just have to ask him, then,” he says confidently. “And become his best friend.”_

_“I am certain that he could have no better friend than you, Draco.” He smoothes the hair from Draco’s eyes. “Now bedtime. Sleep well.”_

_“Night, father.” Draco cuddles under the blankets, asleep in moments._

~~*~~ 

_At eight, walking in the gardens with Vince and Greg._

_“You think Potter learns the same lessons we do? Or do you think his Muggles teach him other things?” Vince asked._

_“It’s quite unlikely they expect anything of the sort from him. I mean, he is their hero, isn’t he? Likely he has servants who do that sort of thing for him. Father says he’d be a fool not to befriend me when we go to school. After all, even if they do teach him the basics, there will be so much he doesn’t know. And I can help him with all that. I’m sure those Muggles of his spoil him rotten, but I doubt they know how our world works. Or anything at all about magic. He’ll need all the help he can get, really.”_

_“And what about us?” Greg wants to know._

_“Oh, don’t worry. You can hang out with us. After all, you’re very useful yourselves.”_

~~*~~ 

_Diagon Alley, the summer before he started at Hogwarts._

_“Father, father!”_

_“Draco, in public, Malfoys do not shout. Now calm yourself, and then you may speak.”_

_Catching his breath, Draco straightens himself, ignoring the crowd shuffling past them in Diagon Alley as they move from shop to shop. “I just met the rudest boy, father…”_

_“And you feel it necessary to tell me this in front of the entire Wizarding world, Draco?”_

_“N-no…” Draco remembers how his cheeks burned at the reprimand. “I…wanted you to help me find him. He’s with that giant from the school. I wanted you to tell him to be nicer to me.”_

_“Draco, one boy insulting you is not the end of the world. Besides, we are far too busy to be tracking down some Mudblood, and if he is with that Hagrid oaf, he is undoubtedly one. Now come along. We need to meet your mother at Ollivander’s.”_

~~*~~ 

_The Hogwarts Express. Five boys, standing rigid and proud. A pale hand held out in offering, then refused._

_Back in their own carriage, Draco glares out the window. “Bloody Muggle-lover. Blood-traitor. I’ll make them both pay. See if I won’t,” he mutters to himself._

_“You want us to help with that, Draco?” Vince asks._

_“Oh, go back to your chocolate, you useless lump. Defeated by a bloody mouse.”_

_“It wasn’t me! It was Greg!”_

_Draco rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Just…let me think, all right?”_

_It was obvious Vince doesn’t like that, but he still goes quiet, and Draco gazes out of the window again, lost in his plans._

~~*~~ 

_Second year. Dueling club. A whisper in his ear. “Do you recall the spell your father taught you this summer, Draco? The summoning spell?”_

_Draco smirks, glowering at Harry where he stands, trying to learn something—anything—from that oaf Lockhart before they duel. Draco can tell he’s nervous. And he knows just what to do. He nods at Severus’s question, then feels his teacher back away. This will be delightful. “_ Serpensortia _!”_

_The snake flies directly at Harry, but the reaction…that bit went horribly wrong. How dare Harry have any defenses against the thing? How dare he not even be afraid of it? And even more, how dare he have the most coveted Slytherin power ever?_

~~*~~ 

_Third year. The Quidditch Cup. Harry catching the Snitch._

_Watching as Harry’s teammates and friends surround him and carry him off the field. Draco is a failure. And his own teammates aren’t about to let him forget._

_Taunts in the shower. Taunts in the common room._

_And a promise to himself. Someday, he’ll beat Harry Potter._

~~*~~ 

_The badges. “Potter Stinks.”_

_Staying up all night to make them just right._

_Even better, the look on Harry’s face when he sees them. The novelty wore off too quickly, though._

_Skeeter had made that all better, though. Telling her all Harry’s secrets. At least, as he knew them… Now that was true triumph._

~~*~~ 

_Being reprimanded by Snape after cornering Harry in the Front Hall._

_“Are you just mentally deficient, boy? Going after him like that? Right at the height of his popularity?”_

_“He had it coming! Look at what he did to fa—”_

_“Your father made his own mistakes, Draco. Potter had nothing to do with it.”_

_“He did! If it weren’t for him, my father would still be free!”_

_“You know the world does not work that way, Draco…”_

_“Well, I’m going to fix it. I have a plan. And you’re going to help me. Take me to the Dark Lord when I get home.”_

_Snape’s eyebrows rise. “Draco… You are too young. He does not take children for his, Draco. And even if he did…”_

_“You can’t stop me. He can help father! I know he can. And I know something no one else does. I know how to get them in. He’ll listen. I know he will. If you don’t help me, I’ll just go to Aunt Bellatrix. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to present me to him…”_

_Draco’s breath catches in his throat at the memory. How stupid he was. How egotistical. To think he could turn Voldemort’s purpose to his own._

~~*~~ 

_That bloody, wretched bathroom. It was his lowest point ever. It was bad enough that a ghost knew he was too weak. But for Harry to know? That was something he simply couldn’t have. Couldn’t live with._

_He flung spells at Harry without thinking. And then… “_ Sectusempra _!” The world went red. There had been pain, at first. He remembered thinking that at least this way, it wasn’t exactly his failure. Wasn’t even death preferable to that?_

_Unfortunately Snape saved him, then carried him to the Hospital Wing. He lay there for quite a while, knowing it was useless. He was useless._

_He couldn’t remember falling asleep._

~~*~~ 

_The last memory is back at the Manor. Less than a month after the war ended._

_“What on earth do you mean, Draco, seeking out that boy?”_

_“I’m not ‘seeking him out.’ I’ve just decided that perhaps it’s been too much. The war is over father. We lost. And in the process, we almost lost_ everything _. Doesn’t that matter to you?”_

_Lucius’s eyes flash. “We have risen from far worse straits without bowing to anyone, Draco. I am not about to do so now. Least of all to a child.”_

_“No. You’d rather do it to a madman.” He watches Lucius’s hand tighten on his cane, but he speaks again before his father can do more. “I’m not asking you to do any bowing, father. This isn’t for you. It's for me. And whatever children I might have. For our future, father. Not for the past.”_

_He knows his father still holds a great deal of shame about what Draco tried to do to save him, even though he failed. He only hopes that he could see this was his only option, now._

_“So go, then. But don’t expect me to like it.”_

_“I wouldn’t, father. I promise I will be as cautious as you always taught me to be.”_

_The two stand together for a moment before Lucius nods. “I know you will.”_

~~*~~ 

Harry had one question when he emerged from the memories. “Why did you come to see me that day?”

To be honest, Draco was amazed he’d never asked the question before. But then Harry tended to go on instinct, rather than reason, so maybe that wasn’t such a shock.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

Draco got up and moved so that they were standing face to face. “You’ve always been there. You saw. Every part of my life has been defined by you. Even before we met. School, friendship, war… Maybe we were never friends, but…I don’t know how to live a life where you’re not part of it, Harry.”

Harry looked bemused at this. “What do you mean? You’ve always hated me. And you never wanted anything more than the Hero, Draco. Just like everyone else.”

“Obviously, you didn’t watch close enough, Harry. Say, the part where I was the one to offer friendship to you, and you turned _me_ away? I came to you that day because if either of us are going to have a chance of going on…maybe, just maybe…there are a few things we might learn from each other.”

“You’re saying you expect to learn something from me?” The idea obviously surprised Harry. “Like what?”

“Like…maybe…how you get on so well with others? Even despite everything you showed me?”

“And what are you expecting me to learn from this, Draco?” he asked cautiously.

Draco held out his hand, trying desperately not to think of the first time he’d tried this. “Shades of grey.”


End file.
